


A Knife in the Ocean

by sequence_fairy



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen, hollow-centric, time skip!fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-27 10:39:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7614826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's raining in the soulscape again, and the Hollow is sick and tired of being wet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Knife in the Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of thinking about what the soulscape would have been like post-Mugetsu and during the time skip

The Hollow sits, exposed, in a puddle of water gathered in a window on the side of sideways skyscraper. The rain drips off his hair and onto his face.

It feels like it’s been raining for years.

It’s been months since he’s seen anyone but the Old Man, and the Old Man won’t talk to him, won’t look at him, won’t even be goaded into a fight. The Hollow is _bored_. The King hasn’t returned since that last time, and in his more maudlin moments, the Hollow wonders if he’ll ever come back. Hell, he’d even take the Queen at this point with her pointy fingers and her flinty eyes.  
  
He shakes his head like a dog, spraying water in all directions, but the rain keeps coming down. It never fucking stops. Not anymore. The Hollow can’t remember the last time the sun came out. He thinks it was just after the last time the King was here, but the days all run together in this unrelenting downpour.  
  
He’s itching for a fight, fingers drumming restlessly on the pane of glass beneath him. The sound and vibration reverberate through him, making him fidget more. The rain continues. He’s given up seeking shelter – one, because there isn’t any, and two, because it’s not like it would matter if there was. The rain finds its way into every nook and cranny, and it pours down, cold and wet, and he will never ever be dry again.  
  
He thinks sometimes, that the constant rain might be letting up, just a bit, but his hopes are soon dashed as the ever-present wind drives the water sideways into his face and it comes down even harder.  
  
He wonders if eventually he will just dissolve away, if the rain will eat away at him until there’s nothing left, the way it does to rocks. He doesn’t think that would be very painful, because he thinks it will probably happen slowly enough that he won’t really notice until he’s all but disappeared. He lifts his hand, holding it in front of his eyes. He peers at the blue of his veins beneath his skin, wondering why he even has them if he’s just a manifestation of a piece of Ichigo’s soul.  
  
His skin, while always pale, is almost translucent. A frisson of fear skates up his spine. Is he fading away? Has it been so long since the King was here that the soulscape is crumbling, and with it, the Hollow?  
  
“Old man!” the Hollow barks, voice carried away by the howling wind. The Old Man is nowhere to be found, like fucking usual, and he doesn’t come when he’s called either. “I’ve got a question for you - don’t ignore me, I know you’re around.”

“There’s no need to yell,” The Old Man mutters from right behind him, and the Hollow startles.

“Fuck me,” the Hollow snarls and the Old Man just looks at him.

“There’s no need for that either.”

“Oh no? Isn’t there?” The Hollow seethes, “the King has abandoned us, it’s raining again and you think there is no _need for yelling_.”

“He hasn’t abandoned us,” the Old Man says patiently, and the Hollow all but screams, drawing his blade and levelling it at the other occupant of the soulscape.

“He’s not fucking here is he? And he hasn’t been since you taught him the final _getsuga_. You knew what was going to happen. You knew he was going to lose _everything_ and you still taught him!” The Hollow’s tirade dissolves into wordless rage and he throws himself at the Old Man.

Their swords clatter against each other, sparks flying.

“I didn’t teach him by myself,” The Old Man grits out, adjusting his stance and heaving back at the Hollow. “You helped.”

“Under duress.”

“Still. Don’t blame me for something you had an equal part in.”

The Hollow slumps under the truth of the Old Man’s words, and his blade drops. “I hate the rain,” he says, and the Old Man nods in agreement.

“He’ll be back,” the Old Man says, sheathing his blade. “Ichigo Kurosaki will not abandon us to the rain.”

Deep inside the soulscape, something rumbles.


End file.
